The Lasting Experience of Mike Schmidt
by Browlax
Summary: Mike Schmidt gradually spends time as the night watchman at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, learning more about of the animatronic characters he viewed secretly vicious in terms of how they're programmed. Essentially, he automatically transforms that view into something much different then what he judged beforehand. Each night is uniquely different. If you're into depth, by all means.
1. A First Time For Everything

***Disclaimer* Hello, kind reader. I have thought of this idea of explaining Mike Schmidt's nights and what he experiences; kind of like a journal (take note there will be times whenever Mike will express his thoughts and feelings). I thought this would be interesting. Each night will be different, as well as his time during the day (for instance while he is at home relaxing). **

**If you read my other stories, I think you'll get a feel of how I will attempt this. If not, that's alright! I hope you enjoy my take of Mike's relationship with Freddy Fazbear and his friends! ****J****Happy New Years Eve****! :D **

**11:55**

A young twenty-three-year-old nervously walked with a man advanced in years, his knees wobbling uncontrollably. With a cleaned uniform he never worn over his body, it was appropriate to as well wear a special security cap labeled 'Nightwatch' straight across the front. He respected the honor by taking it from the confident man walking with him, and then placing it atop his recently cut brown hair. The night they walked through blew cold winds and maintained unsettling, dark clouds that cluttered the sky's void fulfilling. Everywhere they went, it felt they disturbingly hugged them, following every inch they walked in. The trees howled bizarre noises, and he sworn he heard whispery, spine-tingling words penetrate his ears from them.

"There's nothing to worry about, Mike," said the older man, who patted the younger man's shoulder with a wrinkly hand to relax him.

"W-Will there be any help for me, sir," asked the concerned Mike, fumbling with his blue tie and digital watch.

"Why of course, son," confirmed he. "How on earth will you know what you're doing without help? Our previous guard will leave you phone messages about everything you'll need to know later, alright?"

"Alright, Mr. Fazbear," stuttered Mike, clearing his sour throat.

"You can call me Howard by the way," Mr. Fazbear added. Mike barely grinned and said, "Okay, Howard." Mr. Fazbear smiled.

Mr. Fazbear slowly guided him into the building. Mike looked onto his watch to see the clock represented 11:58. His heart pounded against his chest, knowing he needed to begin his shift in two minutes. He didn't know what to expect; nothing at all, except for what Mr. Fazbear confirmed to him.

"Mr. Fazbear," he started to stammer, "what is there I'm _really_ supposed to be keeping an eye on?"

Mr. Fazbear waited until he took Mike to the office of the building, which was at the very back of the entire restaurant. The hallways were dark and spooky, for there were spider and cobs webs along the corners and black shadows that seemed they'd consume somebody. Mike's head was too low before he could see what he was asking about. His light blue eyes were too focused on the red and blue tiles on the floor that were patterned, attracting his attention.

"Animatronics," Mr. Fazbear replied, seating Mike on the cushioned chair in front of a cluttered desk. On the desk was a monitor, smaller monitors, papers, and childish artwork expressing the artists' fun they had at the restaurant.

"Good luck, Mike," he wished him, patting his back before taking a step away. Mr. Fazbear's face turned away from Mike's as he stepped out of the office, leaving just in time to not hear Mike's full question.

"Wait, animatronics? Mr. Fazbear, why do I need to watch animatronics?"

Mr. Fazbear walked off from a far distance and out the building, ruffling his keys. He pulled out the key that locked and unlocked the more secure door, then placed the brown fedora on his head once again, walking safely out of the building with the best of luck for his security guard. Mike could hear the door meet its frame, wishing Mr. Fazbear had more time to answer his question concerning the animatronics.

Calm down, Mike, Mike messaged to himself mentally, slowly shutting his eyes, wiping the irritating sweat upon his forehead, mainly his throbbing temples. The clock above his head loudly rung, piercing his ears.

Only to innocently signal it was exactly twelve.

He remembered his sweet mother's words before he walked out of his apartment; those meaningful, caring words. He heard them as she spoke through his phone.

_Remember honey, if you need anything, you ask your manager or I. If you need to call me, do it. I promise things will get better, no matter what you're doing. You'll get used to your routine and schedule. Take care of yourself and don't let anything stop you. Okay? I love you, Michael. _

Everything will get better, everything will get better, his mind echoed.

Sometimes, Mike's mother babied him a lot at the age of twenty-three, and he respected that, opposing not. He smiled a happy yet nervous smile, the sensations in his gut swarming of several feelings. A cold breeze crashed into the office, over his skin to raise the goose bumps and tiny hairs upon his arms. With a warmer hand, he rolled his sleeves back, gliding his fingers up and down over his arms.

Shaking the jitters off his body, he turned on the monitor for the first time, teaching himself to use it. The office phone rang loudly, and Mike didn't even flinch as he turned to pick it up, since Mr. Fazbear expected him to expect a message.

"Hello, hello? Uh, I wanted to record a message for you to get you settled on your first night," a hesitant, quirky, and unsure voice said. Mike stored every word in his brain, at least whatever was important initially. The voice continued on and on for what literally felt likes hours, giving very detailed instructions and expectations for the night shift.

"Now, for your safety, the only real risk to you as a night watchman here is the fact these characters, uh, if they happen to see you, they won't recognize you as a person."

O-kay, Mike thought wondrously, crossing a brow.

"They'll most likely see you as a metal endoskeleton without its costume on."

Why is that important, Mike thought sharply, afraid his thought would be answered badly.

"Now since that's against the rules here at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, they'll probably try to…forcefully stuff you inside a Freddy Fazbear suit."

Mike froze.

"Say what?"

"Now, that wouldn't be so bad if the suits themselves weren't filled with crossbeams, wires, and animatronic devices, especially around the facial area. You could imagine how having your head forcefully pressed against one of those could cause a bit of discomfort…and death. Yeah, they don't tell you these things when you sign up."

Mike gulped roughly.

"Did he say…'**_death_**'?"

"But hey, first day should be a breeze. I'll chat with you tomorrow. Check those cameras and close the doors if **absolutely necessary. **Gotta conserve power. Alright, good night."

Mike didn't even push the 'end' button; he dropped the handle of the phone in utter shock as his jaw dropped. He wanted to puke, since he felt nausea flood in him like his blood did. Carefully, he looked for a trash can nearby, and luckily, one sat right against the back corner of the wall. Quickly, he snatched it, keeping it right by his side in case the nasty substance decided to come through his system.

"S-So _that's _w-why I need to w-watch over those a-a-ani-animatro-tro-tronics," Mike tried to clearly say out loud, hearing the blood that strongly pumped through and against his ears. He very slowly leaned over, swiping through the cameras of the monitor, viewing over the show stage. All three of the characters creepily stared at what faced them in their normal pose, each one significantly holding something; a microphone, guitar, and cupcake that had googly eyes.

A few seconds later, the camera began to glitch, the sound of big feet mentally and painfully hurting Mike's mind. His breathing grew rapid, then increasing in volume. He felt like his heart was a big ball of fire about to explode out of his chest as the camera once again returned to its normal state. He took a sip of his hot coffee, thinking even a little bit of it would calm him down.

One of the animatronics was gone.

"Oh no," Mike wheezed, choking on his coffee as some of it flew out of his mouth and sinking into his clothes. It very quickly came in contact with his skin, causing his nerves to force him to jump up from his seat. The pain lasted for many seconds.

"Ow!" he cried, grinding his teeth against one another.

Eventually, the animatronic rabbit was in the party room after Mike swiped the screen again. He in particular was purple, more specifically lavender, having two giant rabbit ears that were mechanically flexible. He had big maroon eyes that almost reminded Mike of blood, remembering that was what all three of them were capable of shedding. In his mouth were large, round teeth, appearing harmless, but probably able to rip open human bodies. On his chest was a big, red bowtie, which actually did remind Mike of blood. He had a big belly and a wide frame. He had arms and legs that looked capable of punching and kicking Mike's much smaller body violently. Mike looked closer into him, confused for his gender; mainly because of the color of his fur.

"I'm already hoping six will come soon," Mike cried, his sweaty palms holding his pale, sour face.

**3:41**

A few hours later, Mike still panicked, seldom looking through the cameras. Each footstep made his body react quickly, affecting his nervous system. Hesitantly, he very dreadfully turned his head, peeking a good eye out for that rabbit. Then, he began to wonder:

_What is that rabbit's name? _

Of course, there were names for characters. Mike uncaringly looked through every clean and tattered paper over the desk, reading the words to see if he could discover the name of that pesky rabbit. Without attention, he accidentally slid the sharp corner of a flyer across his index finger, going deeper and deeper into his fresh flesh.

"Jesus," muttered the aggravated he, swinging his finger, wiping the blood that flew on his face. The pain throbbed annoyingly, like a bee sting.

Unfortunately, there was no luck for seeking any of the names, besides Freddy Fazbear, who of course was the mascot of the whole restaurant.

"I just want to know that rabbit's name," he grumbled, roughly slapping the paper stack on the desk. As he closed his tired eyes, footsteps walked closer and closer, getting louder- more louder- much more louder. His butt sprinted from his cushioned seat as a goofy, cartoon voice boomed into his left ear.

"Hey you, what're you doing without your costume," the rabbit spoke wickedly with one heck of a silly voice.

Mike's expression shrunk. He almost laughed by his hilarious voice, but the moment was quite serious.

"H-H-Huh, wha? What?"

May that guy on the phone be praised for the truth he spoke, Mike nervously thought to himself, remembering the phone guy said the animatronics would look at him, a human being, as metal instead of flesh and blood.

"Silly, you're supposed to be in your suit; you know, the suits in the back! That's going against the rules if you aren't, endoskeleton!" replied the rabbit surely, chuckling a breathy chuckle.

"N-No, no, I'm the night w-w-watchman here, s-stupid rabbit," Mike nervously stated, trying to bravely protect his human identity, standing up from his chair to back up against the wall.

"Oho, so you think I'm stupid? I'm not stupid, but I have a feeling you are, endoskeleton. You can't fool us," the rabbit snared, stepping into the room.

Mike bit his lip so hard he thought his lip was about to split into two.

"S-S-S-Stop, that's n-n-not f-funny! Seriously, I'm human, not metal!"

The rabbit paused in his sneaky movement, placing his foot behind him.

"You're not getting away with me, buddy. You ought to follow the rules or else!"

"Or else what," Mike snapped in a sassy manner, eyes squinted.

"Or else I'll get Freddy to deal with you," hissed the rabbit. "He can have a bit of a temper."

"Oh no you won't, rabbit," Mike taunted, turning around as fast as he could and sprinted out the door- almost.

The rabbit grabbed the back of his collar, scaring the living life out of his being. He coughed airy coughs, the nausea in him roaming rapidly. His lungs felt as if they were shrinking, more and more until they were little shrivels of nothing.

"Nice try, pest," he taunted, squinting his darkening eyes, his pupils shrinking and becoming a white color. Adrenaline pumped through Mike's veins like animals running through the wild, and he could feel it course throughout his body. The rabbit dragged him across the floor. Mike did _anything _for his life, only by grabbing onto sides, the chair legs of his seat, and kicking and thrashing away the rabbit's much stronger arm. His mind went blank, vision cluttering so that he couldn't see where he was taken to. The world around him darkened into a pure blackness, only to determine his eyesight lacked. The rabbit's big, meaty hand around Mike's ankle hurt so much, but there was no choice but to feel it for God knew how long.

A second later, Mike fainted, then passed out, never to know what happened.

**5:51**

Mike's eyes opened to see the ceiling above him, the dim light almost blinding him. He could hear robotic movement screech and grind, sickening him physically and mentally. A purple hand was over his chest, holding him down onto a table for a strong hold.

"W-What's happening," he asked dizzily, blinking several times to see three animal animatronics staring at him with crafty faces.

"Bonnie caught you without your suit, foolish endoskeleton," a heavy, deep, and shadowy voice answered. Mike was able to raise his head; when he did, he saw Freddy Fazbear looking directly into his eyes. Mike's soul begged hopelessly for help, but there was nothing he could do about it.

"You sneaky pest didn't follow the rules," a very happy, feminine sounding voice added. Mike looked to Freddy's side to see a yellow chicken glaring right into his face.

Freddy already prepared the suit, nefariously holding it right in front of Mike's face.

Mike's eyes crossed of anger, holding his rushing thoughts. On the outside, he was terrified, like any ordinary person, but on the inside, little did he know he held a powerful anger.

"Woah, woah, stop right there, bear," he demanded before Freddy put his leg through the suit, Bonnie's hand accidentally releasing from Mike's heavy chest. "All three of you really _think _I'm one of you?"

"Our eyes do not deceive us," stated Freddy.

"Neither do mine. You know why? I'm a twenty-three-year-old man; surely I can clearly tell the difference between you three alike and I. Take a good look at me and tell me if there's ANY metal you see; just look!"

The three literally obeyed Mike's demand.

"I am a human being, not metal. Obviously," he scowled.

"Proof it," Bonnie ordered as he crossed his large arms, his eyes mirroring the anger inside of him.

"I just will. First off, do endoskeletons wear clothes? Last time I checked, they were naked. In fact, I see one naked in this room right now. Am I wearing clothes? Like any other human being wouldn't. Do endoskeletons have blood in them? I wouldn't think so. I could cut myself right now and **PROOF **it's in me. I promise it's there. For the _love of God_, I am **NOT **an endoskeleton! I'd do **_anything_** to make you three believe me!"

The three froze in their places.

"Maybe it's right-"

"'It'?" Mike corrupted, crossing his arms.

"'He' I meant," Freddy sarcastically frowned, rolling his eyes.

"Maybe he _is _telling the truth; I don't think we're seeing it. We don't have the eyes he has, and he'll never have the eyes we have. He's just like the other guard, right? He said he was human and we believed him."

He sadly faced Mike.

"Buddy, we're terribly sorry we about stuffed you in one of the suits. Will you forgive us?"

"Please forgive us," chimed Chica.

"And I as well, especially for what I said earlier," pleaded Bonnie.

Mike smiled in relief, finding his cap on the ground and placing it on his head. He truly knew they begged for forgiveness because their eyes returned to their normal state.

"I truly forgive all three of you," he grinned happily. He looked at his watch, stressing about how quickly he had to leave.

It was 5:57.

"Shoot, I have to be out of here in a three minutes," Mike said, leaping off the wooden table, painfully landing on his feet. He about fell over by the balance that lacked in his feet, and before he did, Bonnie grabbed tightly unto his arm.

"Thanks," he offered Bonnie, swiping the dust off his uniform. A second later, he began walking through the room he was in. Before he touched the knob, Freddy interrupted him.

"Before you go," he started, "we want to introduce ourselves."

"Sure," Mike agreed.

"Of course, you know I'm Freddy Fazbear. You can tell by the restaurant's name. I'm the lead singer of our band," he chuckled a deep chuckle. He round ears bent forward, indicating he was very happy.

"This is Bonnie the Bunny, but we sometimes call him Bon. You can call him whatever you want. He leads the bass guitar. He's very jolly," he said, patting Bonnie's shoulder.

"I'd love to learn to play someday, Bonnie," Mike confessed, hinting with a wink.

"I'd love to teach you," Bonnie nicely replied, rubbing Mike's back.

"This beautiful lady is Chica the Chicken. She's the one that bakes her famous pizza and cupcakes. Everyone loves them," Freddy flattered, winking at Chica, who blushed.

"Oh Freddy, you don't have to flatter me," she giggled.

"And she loves being sarcastic at times," Freddy said, laughing at Chica's snappy reaction.

"Like I don't," Chica said, rolling her eyes.

"See? Just like that," Freddy joked.

His head jerked for a very fast moment.

"We also have another friend, but he doesn't really like to be watched. His name's Foxy, Foxy the Pirate Fox. Sadly, he's been out of order for years, but he's still family to us. We'll let you meet him tomorrow if you want."

"Aye; I be into meetin' a pirate," Mike exclaimed, pretending to be a pirate.

Freddy laughed. "You sound just like him too!"

Mike heartily chuckled, very interested in meeting Foxy.

"Well, I'm very glad you introduced yourselves. I wanted to know Bonnie's name because he was the first I noticed over the cameras. I actually looked through some papers on the desk," he nicely said, twisting the knob of the door he faced.

"Wait a second."

"Yes?"

"What's your name?"

Mike grinned.

"Mike, Mike Schmidt," he answered calmly as he left the door open for the animatronics.


	2. Everything Will Be Fine

*******SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT***** ****THE FIRST THREE READERS**** to honestly and meaningfully review the ****first AND second**** chapters of this story will have the chance to receive ****_two_**** of the following ****(you will receive both of what is mentioned in the third option)****:**

**- Give me a big idea for one of my chapters (your idea WILL be credited)**

**- A one-shot idea (meant for you individually)**

**- (I'm working on seeing if this is legitimately possible; more information will be given) a free copy of FNAF and its sequel**

**Now, I don't beg for attention or popularity, but if you share this story with AT LEAST ****one person**** (or a FNAF fan), you can have everything I'm offering! **

***Note this will take awfully long, so patience is what I ask for.***

**Let's see who REALLY reads the notes on my stories. Hehe. I kid, I kid. **

**Enjoy this chapter! ****J**

"Hello, Michael?"

A groggy Mike lazily slapped his hand over his phone as he heard his mother's voice, curling his fingers around the glossy handle of his rotary dial telephone, groaning dreadfully as he put the speaker to his ear. Though he somewhat enjoyed his early morning, since he about made a smelly mess in his pants by Freddy and his pals roaming to reach closer to him, his eyes wanted to ridiculously remain closed for days and days and never to open until a final day arrived.

"How's it going, sweetie? You liking your night shift so far?"

"Everything's fine, Mom. The only bad thing is I about wet my pants last night," Mike shivered as if he met a tragic memory.

"Uh-oh, Michael. Don't tell me someone hurt you! What happened?" His mother yelped as his words terrorized her. Mike rolled his eyes, snapping his gums.

"Calm down, Mom. I'm fine. At the last minute, Mr. Fazbear told me I needed to watch animatronics that sing silly songs for kids. I figured nothing would hurt after he said that, BUT, the reason I'm telling you this is because they look at me as an endoskeleton; they used to at least," Mike explained, rolling over to face the wall that almost nestled against him uncomfortably. He stiffly yawned, throwing the thick blankets over top of him off his body because the fabric of his pajamas settled discomfort concerning heat.

"Oh, I'm sorry, dear. I told you things would get better, right? Just look at how things are changing dramatically. Now, about those robots, why did they see you differently shortly afterwards?"

Mike frowned a remorseful frown, returning to the time he stood up for himself in his mind. As a boy, he was very shy and tried to conceal his social speech. After returning home before hitting the hay, he studied the words he spat. He realized how offensive they were, only by the sound of them thrown at the gang of friends. Then again, he remembered he was trying to defend his dignity, to publicly offend the artificial intelligence of the so thought "programmed robots". They were more than what they were relatively viewed as and deserved more thought and characteristics. They were more intelligent than programmed; even Mike himself wanted to tribute that.

"I uh…stood up for myself," Mike weakly admitted, squeezing his eyes shut as embarrassment fluttered in him. His cheeks blazed red, burning his skin.

"You did?"

"Y-Yeah," Mike squealed, clutching his face. He urged to hang up his phone by the power of his embarrassment, but with his intimidating discipline, he kept the phone to his ear.

"You didn't hurt them, did you, as in fighting back," his mother daringly asked.

"Mom, I would've gotten_ fired _if I did that," Mike flared, a sympathetic burden swelling in his inhaled chest.

"Well, alright. Just in case they try to hurt you again, you tell me right away," she burst with a sharp, serious, and dark tone in her voice. Mike's mother was overprotective of her son, but he accepted it in his life ever since he was raised as a little boy. The reason for this is her parents were unacceptably there for her, since they set up a divorce once she turned seven. For a majority of her life, she learned to practically raise herself on her own and amazingly did so well she made her own parents look low-class.

"They won't ever again. They even apologized. Don't think of this weirdly, but I'm thinking we look at each other as…f-friends," Mike stuttered, his heart bouncing against his solid ribcage.

There was a long silence that fell into Mike's wide-open bedroom, streaming through his ears like live music.

"Honey, friends are friends, right? Anyone can have any kind of friend. The bottom line is friends don't have to be human. As long as you aren't ashamed to be those robots' friends, be happy!"

Mike grinned cautiously, his heart calming down.

"Thanks, Mom," he exhaled, flicking on the light switch of the bright lamp aside him.

"Anything for you, sweetheart. Make sure you get enough rest today. I love you, my sweet Michael," his mother joyfully exclaimed, waiting for an "I love you too" from her son.

"Love you too," Mike smiled, his waist twisting to see the time. His light eyes grew, the sight of an early time in the morning bringing him to absolute shock.

"6:00; there isn't any other Sheila Schmidt that gets up early in the morning to check up on her son," Mike joked, much like a drunken fool because of the laziness dragging through his body, only by slurring his words. A wave of reluctance sailed over him as he attempted to strive and head for the kitchen to fix him a bowl of cereal; perhaps Fruit Loops, the infamous Kellogg's cereal everyone loves. How could I resist Fruit Loops, Mike hesitantly thought to himself, fighting his laziness with energy.

Mike very slowly sat up-

-then he stopped.

"Eh, I'll wait to later," Mike lazily laughed, plopping onto the fat mattress of his bed to throw the heavy covers across him.

"Freddy? May we talk for a second?"

After singing an awful lot of songs for the little children praising him for his deep and tremendous voice, Freddy rested tiredly near the supplies closet, entertained by the remaining solo guitar playing, only by Bonnie himself, who seemed like he'd fall over by the exhaustion overcoming him. Chica rested as well, only baking for the customers that were in for well-earned pizza that raised a pleasant aroma from the kitchen to the whole party room. Once she finished, she dazed off into their black morning, Mike in her thoughts. She began to worry about him, and how he reacted to them as he frantically surfed through the monitor, shaking and huddling in a small corner. This, only Chica could see by a nearby corner. With that, she tended to head for Freddy, who she always told her internal conflicts with.

"Mhm, we sure can, Chica," he replied to her in his non-programmed voice. "What's up?"

Chica's purple eyes mirrored the concern she felt, looked down briefly, then looked up again to look into Freddy's blue eyes.

"When I was baking a second ago, I uh, started to think about Mike," she said, twiddling her thumbs as she looked down at her bib, which was designed in popping confetti and the phrase, 'Let's Eat'.

Freddy's eyes fulfilled with concern.

"How come," he asked carefully, observant.

"Well, this morning I saw him in a corner, and it looked like he saw a ghost. He seems nice and I know what he told us before he left, but I'm still...a little uneasy about him. I don't want him to wet his pants if he sees one of us."

Freddy glared at his toes, adjusting his top hat. A moment later, he glared into Chica's eyes again, patting her shoulder.

"Well that's okay. You have the right to feel the way you feel. There's time that has to be taken wisely and we can do it. You, Bonnie, and I have the chance to get to know him more, right? We should take it. From the glances of him, he looks sweet, but we have to understand last night was his first shift. I just hope Bonnie didn't traumatize him when he started moving around. We can't help it; we _have _to move around. The thought of our legs locking up scares me," Freddy explained in deep thought, glancing over at the stage to glare at Bonnie, who stopped his kiddy tune and began walking towards Freddy and Chica.

Bonnie lightly touched Freddy's broad shoulder saying, "Hey guys. What's up?"

Freddy turned around happily by the sound of Bonnie's goofy rabbit voice, grabbing his waist.

"Hey Bonnie," Freddy began in reply. "Chica and I were discussing about Mike. She's a little worried about him."

Bonnie's right ear twitched. "Oh. I hope I didn't do anything to him. Frankly, I still feel bad for what I said to him last night," he admitted, lowering his ears with a heavy metallic heart.

Chica glared into his maroon eyes, her hand meeting her hip. "Oh, Bonnie, what did you tell him?"

Bonnie's metallic heart raced.

"When I saw him, I called him 'foolish' and 'stupid'. He threw mean names at me too, but what's worse is I literally pulled his leg to force him out of the office," Bonnie anxiously stuttered, picking at his ear.

"I felt like a monster."

Freddy's eyes swelled. "Bonnie, you're not a monster. You didn't deserve to feel like one. You're too lighthearted for such a dark side," Freddy honestly comforted, his round ears bending. He rubbed his knuckles against Bonnie's chest, indicating the positivity within the goofy rabbit.

Bonnie blushed.

"That…that means a lot to me, Freddy," Bonnie chirped. "I…I…I uh-"

Freddy placed a finger over his lips, Chica smiling behind him as she felt a preciousness swarm in the air.

"Shh, Bonnie, I know. I flattered you," Freddy grinned, gently gliding his finger down Bonnie's lip to comfort his swollen yet flattered being.

"Everything will be fine. Mike already said he forgave you, and he meant it."

Bonnie's large ears twitched in a brilliant manner.

"Yes, he did," Bonnie repeated. "Everything is going to be…fine."


	3. Th' Pirate Fox

**Excuse the excess delay; I've been using Source Filmmaker a lot, so I've focused on my videos mostly. **

**A guest had asked if I was going to write more, and yes- I am honey. ****J**

**This chapter will literally only include Foxy. There will be a mention of the others, but relatively, people favor Foxy, and well- admittedly, this is the chapter in which he and Mike meet.**

**Enjoy, lads and lasses! **

**….**

"Avast Jim lad, I be havin' news that'll ye need to know."

The pirate fox Freddy mentioned previously scrambled to his feet hurriedly, pursuing Mike's every footstep as he walked into the office for his night shift. Terrified, his feet sprung into the air, stunned by the scruffy, thick accented voice of the fox following him. His voice sounded as if he had drunk much rum, or salty air had affected it. Mike began to shed salty sweat, his palms feeling moist and shaky, then the sweat upon his forehead came to an end before turning around ever so slowly.

"O-O-Oh, h-hi there. A-Are you talking to me?"

The fox squinted an eye, his foot freezing before approaching Mike which rhythmically tapped.

"Ye be thinkin' I be jabbin' to th' wall? O' course I'm talking to ye! I be behind ye fer a reason, laddie!"

Mike's finger curled around the collar of his uniform before nervously squeezing his blue tie.

"O-Oh, I'm s-sorry, sir. I thought I was hearing things."

The fox half-heartedly chuckled, his silver hook stroking his fur.

"Aye, there ain't a reason to be sorry. I be th' one thinkin' he be hearin' things. Ye be mistaken, bucko."

With mental shrieks and a nervous grin, he acted for a smile and said, "I must be, sir."

Mentally, the fox chanted hatred for how he was referred to as "sir", but physically showed respect for the young sir.

"Call me 'Foxy' if ye will. That be me signified name, and it always will be," he admittedly said, raising his eye patch purposely with a joyous chuckle, slapping his thin thigh.

"Now, what be yer name, boyo?"

Mike hesitantly scratched the back of his head, clenching his belt with a free hand.

"Mike- Mike Schmidt," he stated with a better state of confidence, rather than being high-strung.

Foxy smiled, his canine teeth revealed with a hint of gold to be seen, which was traditionally pirate like. He was a withered bot, his mechanical innards exposed disturbingly- especially his bare endoskeleton, which reminded him of just metal used for entertainment. His teeth looked incredibly sharp; as if they could tear open the innocent. His silver hook practically rusted, and it looked sharp enough to slice open the flesh upon human beings. He was a bit lanky, mainly because of his calves and arms, which were practically of nothing but material, with the exception of the tiny leftover skin of his arms. Spooks crawled about Mike's spine, for the fact a childish character to be very scary looking disturbed him.

"W-Why are the others not roaming, Foxy?" Mike questioned worriedly, gliding his fingers along the bones within his other hand habitably, biting his lip with eventual blood to form from its wound.

"They be shut down fer tonight, which be why I be th' alive sea-dog to tell ye. They've pleaded fer me to tell ye they be down n' dead for th' night, but perhaps I be a bit late on tellin' ye because, well, ye've figured it out," Foxy explained with a confident eye and hearty chuckle, wrapping an arm around Mike's waist in a friendly manner. Mike about stiffened by the cold metal that was Foxy's arm, but he quickly relaxed his sudden tension. Though Foxy was a bit short, he was still able to balance and walk with the security guard, and he could even spot the red liquid cluttering upon his lip.

"Be ye alright, boyo?" questioned the concerned Foxy, reaching his hook close to Mike's lip. Mike slowly touched his lower lip with two free fingers, swiping and noticing crimson crippling down his skin.

"Oh, it's nothing," Mike half-truly laughed with a random stutter. "I'm in the habit of biting my lip is all."

Foxy's golden eyes narrowed. "Yarr, Mikey, just be sure ye're tellin' th' truth wit O' Cap'n Foxy. I be no scallywag, landlubber," Foxy bravely stated cleverly, gently poking his hook against Mike's chest.

"I don't lie," Mike said, finally making it to his office.

"N' nor shall a sailor," Foxy added bravely with the masculine tone within his voice, saluting with a hook over his chest, indicating a traditional pledge.

Mike smiled, amused by Foxy's "piratey" dialogue and how thick his accent was. He seemed like a pirate who plundered tons of booty- and with a passion. Mike was fulfilled in the amusement to where he couldn't think of whatever else was happening in his present state, and he constantly conversed with Foxy, mainly about the pirate days in which he possessed and locked special memories, booty plundering especially. Oh, how he missed greed for precious treasure he found while exploring the Seven Seas. They both lead themselves into the office to socially bond, but with a comfy seat, if so to speak.

Meanwhile, Mike had snapped out of the interest, noticing Foxy was the only animatronic active and wondered why that was so.

"Foxy?"

"Mikey?"

"How come you aren't shut down?"

Foxy heavily sighed, patting his chest.

"Lad, I bin unable to sing me o' sea shanties fer th' wee lads n' lasses fer years now, if Freddy didn't tell ye already. It don't matter 'cause I be knowin' I ain't performin' again- never ever. I bin behind me Cove fer ferever, n' no wee mateys has seen me out of me Cove since. N' fact, I hardly remember some o' me sea shanties. I only remember a few. Th' day I last performed be foggy n' memory 'cause I was shut down fer good after me last words to everyone. It be a shame because th' time be th' last since I used me ship. It was torn down and unused. It be long gone, n' I barely remember me o' days wit it. I be surprised I ain't scrapped 'cause o' how long it be since I bin active. Luckily, those landlubbers ain't thinkin' about switchin' me switches."

Mike, for the twenty-three-year-old he was, felt manly tears form in his eyes, but he quickly wiped them away with a free hand.

"Foxy, I'm so sorry," Mike whimpered before Foxy immediately replied.

"Eh, don't worry, Mikey. O' Foxy be free as can be n' thankful fer not bein' scrapped. I be hopin' it ain't gonna be thought about," Foxy added, hitting a fist against Mike's chest to indicate the fact he welcomed the bucko as a matey.

"Just hope it won't. There's a brighter side to things, you know," Mike added for optimism, smiling confidently as he rubbed Foxy's right arm.

Foxy smiled.

"Yarr, ye be right, boyo. I be thankful fer yer ears listenin' to me words. I don't think any landlubber besides Freddy and th' others be willin' to listen to an o' sailor like me," Foxy half-heartedly chuckled with a deep tone, vowing in honor.

Mike grinned.

"Ye be welcome, Cap'n Foxy."

Foxy smiled by how well Mike imitated his dialogue.


End file.
